A Slave Called Merlin
by merlinkeepthemagicalive
Summary: When King Arthur invites royal guests to Camelot, the friendship he forms is not one which would be expected... But when the visiting King finds out Arthur has befriended his slave, anger takes over and a life is in danger. AU; WHUMP!Merlin; SLAVE!Merlin; Merlin/Arthur bromance/friendship; No slash; Possible character death; Mild torture/violence; Hurt/comfort/Angst
1. Chapter 1: The Boy in Chains

**Finally my first uploaded fanfiction! I hope you enjoy it, but as I said, it is my first upload so I'm pretty new to it all!**

**This story would probably be set some time during series 4: Arthur is King, Gwen is still a commoner and there are knights of the round table.**

**Unfortunately I don't own Merlin because the BBC stole the idea off of me...**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1:**

**The Boy in Chains**

**(Arthur POV)**

"They're here! They're here!" an excited stable boy yelled as he weaved through Camelot's busy courtyard. King Arthur's ears immediately pricked up, and his eyes sought out the source of the voice, which he discovered was a runty-looking stable boy, his head topped with an overgrown mop of fiery red hair and baggy clothes barely clinging to his lanky physique.

_Oh great. _Arthur thought, as he surveyed the bustling crowd of people scurrying around like tiny ants, frantically going about their days work.

_Another royal guest, _Arthur scowled. _More pretending to take pleasure in the company of a pompous King, more formal greetings, more signing council papers, more discussing disputed-over land, more listening to speeches, more unorganised banquets, and _LESS _time to myself!_

The King's attention switched back to the commotion going on in the courtyard below. From his position at the top of the stone steps leading into the castle, he could see commoners scuttling away, not wanting to impede on the royal entourage about the make a grand entrance into Camelot. He could hear the clinking of chainmail as his knights, whose cloaks flowed behind them like tongues of red fire, formulated on the steps beside him. He could smell the hint of sweet soap, as a serving girl hauled away a pale of bubbly water, with which she had just finished scrubbing a row of the castle's gleaming windows. And he could taste the sour flavour of dread.

_Maybe one day I'll be like them, _Arthur mused as he continued to watch his subjects go about their busy lives, _I could become a farmer, at least then I wouldn't have to face King Alined and his _joyful _royal companions._

As if on cue, a glorious burst of energy filled the courtyard; trumpets sounded, horses trotted, and cheers exploded. Arthur descended the steps, to stand at the bottom of them in front of his knights, ready to greet Alined. First through Camelot's towering stone archway, emerged King Alined himself, proudly atop a muscular chestnut horse, followed by an immense cortege of knights dressed head-to-toe in characterless black uniforms.

_Arrogant prat, _Arthur thought to himself, already judging the way Alined's entourage was clearly based on order of hierarchy. The King was adorned with rich plum-coloured robes, his shoulders enrobed with luxurious furs and his neck decorated with a handful of priceless pendants. His appearance was garnished with a gleaming gold crown perched prominently on his balding head.

Following the near-thirty knights, were a dozen aloof-looking men, who Arthur guessed included courtiers, advisors, a physician and other noblemen. Next into the rapidly filling courtyard, were men and women obviously of a lower-class, as they walked briskly on foot, and most of whom lugged their own leather satchels and belongings.

The painful squeaking of a cart's wheels led Arthur's gaze to the very back of Alined's formation, where three small carts made their way through the stone arch. The first two carts were identical to many Arthur had seen in Camelot before. Both made out of dark, half-rotten wood, they carried bundles of bags, sacks, chests, boxes, and all the luggage Arthur had ever seen under the sun. _Bloody hell, anyone would think Alined was moving in!_

The last of the three carts, Arthur realised, was less of a cart, and more of a ... _cage._ The source of the irritatingly squeaky wheel, only slightly shorter than the height of a man, had rusted silver bars as its sides and roof, and the floor (Arthur squinted) was solid metal with dirty wisps of hay strewn across it. _What in Albion could Alined want a cage like _that _for?_

Then he saw him. Almost as soon as Arthur had asked himself the question, it was answered. A thick metal chain extended between a bar of the cage, to the shackled wrists of a young boy. His arms were outstretched as he struggled to keep up with the pace at which the chains were pulling him, and his left leg gave a slight limp with each step he took. The boy's posture was slumped, and his head hung low, showing to its greatest extent the shock of ink-black hair on his head. As with all the uniforms of Alined's men, the boy wore a thin black tunic and black breeches, with a pair of filthy brown boots which appeared to be falling apart more and more with every step.

By now, Alined had reached the other side of the courtyard, and the red-haired stable boy was running to the assistance of the King as he attempted to dismount his horse. But Arthur's eyes were fixed with both curiosity and horror on the ink-haired boy in chains, as he wondered what kind of terrible thing he could have done to deserve such treatment. _A theif? A traitor? Or worse... a murderer? _Whoever the boy was, Arthur felt immediately uneasy at having such a person in his own palace, but much to his own surprise, he felt an equal thirst for knowledge to find out more about the boy.

"King Arthur Pendragon, how relieved I am to have finally reached Camelot!" an unfortunately familiar voice bellowed.

"King Alined!" Arthur replied, "Camelot welcomes you as our royal guest! I hope your journey was not _too _strenuous."

"Thank you, Arthur. But I'm afraid to inform you, three days riding through torrential rain is not exactly what I would call, _not too strenuous!_ But alas, I am here now, no thanks to _that _imbecile."

With the word '_that', _Alined nodded his head towards two men situated about a dozen paces behind the conversing Kings. A stocky male servant strode flat-out towards Alined, one beefy hand clutching the end of a taught chain, and a malicious smirk across his face. At the end of the chain were two hands, skeleton-like in both size and colour, shackled in iron cuffs. Suddenly the curiosity inside of Arthur dispersed, and he didn't want to know anymore. He didn't want to see the person attached to those skeleton hands. He didn't want to know what that person had done. And he didn't want to know what was going to happen. Something about that knowledge filled him with a deep sense of fear. But it appeared, he was going to find out anyway.

As they approached, Arthur noticed how emaciated the creature was. He looked as though he hadn't eaten a proper meal in months, and his clothes (which closely reminded Arthur of rags) were at least three times too big for him. It wasn't until Arthur was no less than two paces short of them, that he realised the boy in chains was not a boy at all. To the King's alarm, he was in fact a fully grown man, whose skinny build made him largely resemble a young boy from a distance.

With one final yank of the chain, the servant delivered the man in chains beside King Alined. The raven-haired man lurched forward clumsily as the chain pulled on his wrists, then managed to steady himself quickly, as to prevent a head-on collision with his King. Arthur noticed his heavily laboured breathing, and how his hands trembled, with what the King didn't doubt was exhaustion. The stocky servant removed the chain from where it had been attached to the pair of shackles, and after a quick bow to both Kings, hurried off in the direction of Alined's other servants, leaving the shackled man standing alone, a couple of paces away from Arthur and Alined.

"_YOU! IMBECILE!_ GET HERE NOW."

The shackled man limped pathetically forward, until he stood face to face with King Alined, though the man's head hung down, so as to not meet the King's eyes.

"YOU _USELESS, WORTHLESS, __**IDIOT**__!_"

Small globules of spit sprayed from Alined's mouth as he hollered down at the unmoved man. Arthur stepped back in surprise of the sudden outburst, his widened eyes trying to calculate what he must have missed in the last few seconds, to cause such uncontrolled anger.

"YOU DELAYED MY ROYAL PARTY BY _**HALF A DAY! **_ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS _WALK! _JUST _WALK!_But no. _YOU'RE _SUCH A FEEBLE WASTE OF SPACE, YOU CAN'T EVEN DO _**THAT! **_ ARE YOU _COMPLETELY _USELESS?"

Arthur turned to the raven-haired man, waiting for what he expected to be a meek, terrified reply. But to his surprise, he saw the man's jaw clench and his lips seal tightly.

Before Arthur had time to blink, Alined has raised his arm and struck the man standing in front of him with a powerful back-handed _SLAP._

The victim's head whipped to the side and he staggered sideways, this time narrowly missing colliding with King Arthur. For the first time, Arthur could properly see his face. The skin was chalky white, other than the pink mark quickly flourishing into a large red handprint. Angular cheekbones and a slender face contributed to his gaunt cheeks and his lips were plump but flaky with dryness. Arthur made the assumption that when he looked into the raven-haired man's eyes, he would see them full of shock and hurt. But instead the captivating blue spheres were fixed with a look of determination and strength.

"YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A MEASELY SLAVE, HOW _DARE _YOU NOT REPLY TO YOUR KING WHEN TALKED TO?"

_A slave? That man is a... s_lave_? That would explain the shackles and... oh god forbid... _

Arthur looked up at the cage now positioned at the very far side of the courtyard. The chain the slave had previously been attached to was now draped over its crooked open door.

"You _will _be punished for this, _slave!_ You're only lucky I did not already abandon you in that _god-forsaken_ forest when you _refused_ to walk!"

Once more, the slave stayed stubbornly silent, his brow furrowed and lips unmoved.

Alined's expression suddenly warped into one of collected-composure, and he turned to his fellow King, "Come now, Arthur; this useless idiot has wasted enough of my time."

For a reason Arthur didn't quite know, he couldn't find the words to speak, so nodded his blonde-topped head towards the expansive castle doors behind them and gave Alined a forced smile.

Luckily Alined appeared to follow his gesture and ascended the grey stone steps leading into the castle. Before following the plump man, Arthur took a last solemn glance at the slave, who was now limping away in the opposite direction.

_There's something about him, _Arthur thought to himself, _I can't quite put my finger on it. _

The King then turned on his heel and hurried in the direction of Alined, mentally preparing himself for the weeks of hosting royal guests ahead.

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**So, what did you think? Any reviews with suggestions for future chapters (as I haven't written any more of this fic so far) and constructive criticism would be much appreciated!**

**Thanks for reading, I'll try to update as soon as possible, but I'm very busy so no promises! **


	2. Chapter 2: Punishment

**Yay another chapter! I hope the wait wasn't too long for you guys, I've been very busy (partly because of hours spent watching back to back Sherlock episodes, but doesn't count!)**

**Thank you soooo much for everyone's kind reviews! I was so shocked to see how quickly people started showing interest in my fanfiction, and it's just so encouraging! I read every single review and have taken into account every single suggestion!**

**Anyway I'll stop talking (writing) now. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2:**

**Punishment**

**(Merlin POV)**

_Backwards._

_Forwards._

_Backwards._

_Forwards._

A dull pain pounded through the slave's calves from the repetitive thud of continuous walking. His arms and back ached from wrestling heavy luggage off of the carts. His sprained ankle twinged agonisingly with every step up and down the tallest flight of spiral stairs the slave had ever known.

Since arriving in Camelot at midday, the slave had been working endlessly to unload Alined and his men's belongings from the carts and horses, into their guest chambers. As evening approached, the cloudy sky was slowly morphing into a sombre shade of dark grey, and all other servants had long since left the courtyard to serve their masters at the great welcoming feast.

The slave had never seen a royal feast, but he had no desire to join them. Somehow, the sharp coldness and eerie quietness of the outside seemed a lot less lonely than the joyful warmth and excited buzz of a feast. In a splendid hall full of happy diners and content servants, the slave would be inferior to every single one of them, but outside he was alone and free. Or at least as free as his shackles would allow him to be.

A subtle smile appeared on the slave's face, as he hauled the last object off of the cart. Unfortunately, having been at the bottom of the pile of luggage, it was one of the heaviest item. _One more trip, _the slave reassured himself as he half-dragged, half-carried the substantial oak chest across the courtyard. Squeezing through the servant entrance and lifting the chest up numerous steep steps was more than a struggle, especially with the shackles restricting his hands to being just a foot apart.

It was dark by the time the exhausted slave reached the far side of the castle. He could distantly hear the drunken chants of rowdy men and a low drone of conversing nobles. Now just the never-ending spiral staircase stood between him and the guest chambers. _One, two, three, four ... ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine._

What seemed like an eternity later, the slave reached the guest floor, and he sighed breathlessly with relief. He didn't bother knocking as he slipped into the chambers of Sir Benedict, Alined's most trusted knight and victorious warrior.

_Just as I thought, gorging his face at the feast, _the slave grinned. Through a lifetime of working in the shadow of Alined and his men, the slave knew exactly which luggage to deposit in each chamber. He quickly positioned the heavy chest at the end of Benedict's bed, and paused to sooth his aching body.

It was often forced to the back of his mind, but the pain was always present, relentlessly probing his senses like a persistent dog constantly nagging its owner for attention. The slave had known it for so long, he couldn't even imagine not feeling the raw and bleeding skin, brutally worn away by his shackles. The exhaustion causing a spinning head and clumsy nature was an everyday occurrence, and the bruising of regular abuse had become a dulled normality.

Scanning the room to ensure everything was in place, the slave briskly slipped out into the corridor. It didn't occur to him that he hadn't been informed where he'll be sleeping during his time in Camelot, most likely because he doubted _sleep_ was on Alined's list of orders for his slave.

It was well into the night by the time the slave reached the great hall. From behind the towering wooden doors, came a booming buzz of chatter, which had gradually grown louder as the courtiers slugged back more and more wine. By the sounds of clanging crockery, the raven-haired man guessed that servants were now clearing away the diners' plates and goblets. In the background, musicians played cheerful music, and King Alined's thundering voice made his talking clear above the rest.

_Great; drunk, _the slave thought to himself. He knew all too well of Alined's ruthless drinking habits. The King was foul enough when sober, but drinking seemed to magnify every unpleasant part of his personality, and all too often the slave had bared the brunt of his master's heightened anger.

Nervously, he positioned himself a few paces away from the doors and kept his eyes fixed on the ground, as he heard the scraping of numerous chairs. Seven other servants also stood outside the great hall, patiently waiting for their masters to leave the feast.

Suddenly the great wooden doors swung open, releasing a huge waft of pungent odours, and the slave resisted the temptation to look up into the hall of courtiers leaving their tables. He had only eaten a small, stale roll early that morning, so the still lingering smell of cooked chicken, steaming vegetables, rich wine and sweet deserts, made his stomach growl with hunger.

Unfortunately, the slave did not have to wait long for his master to emerge from the busy hall, as it was customary for the royals to leave first. Keeping his gaze averted, he watched two pairs of feet stride side by side through the doors. They both boasted a well-shined pair of brown leather boots, and the accompanying voices confirmed to the slave it was Alined and Arthur.

He knew immediately which pair of feet belonged to Alined, as he staggered in an undignified manner and his speech slurred. Arthur on the other hand, was clearly more responsible with his alcohol consumption, and though talked loudly and jollily, he still maintained his normal Kingly prestige.

The Kings stood in the corridor making some final jokes about the ridiculous dancing of the jester, before saying goodnight to one another with a very Kingly-like handshake.

An entourage of knights were now filtering out of the feasting hall, and the slave saw Arthur turn away to talk to a brown-haired man dressed head-to-toe in the traditional Camelot knight uniform. Absent-mindedly, the slave allowed his eyes wonder over the great variety of people around him. Tiny bells decorating an acrobat's costume jingled as he larked about with his fellow entertainers. A coy Lady of the court blushed as a flirtatious nobleman kissed her goodnight. A pretty young maid giggled as she gossiped with her friendly mistress. A balding drunkard staggered out of the crowd. King Alined.

His eyes burnt with anger and an accusative outstretched finger pointed straight at the slave.

"YOU!" He shouted, releasing a puff of foul breath. "How _dare _you gawp at ladies of the court?! How _dare _you stare at those _higher _that you?!"

"What? I-" Immediately realising his mistake, the slave clapped his lips shut and dipped his head.

"You _disrespectful_ little _bastard!_"

The room quickly dropped to a silence and all eyes turned towards the commotion, as the King lunged forward. The slave stood dead still, trying not to make any more wrong moves.

"I warned you the _last_ time you disobeyed my orders that you would be _punished_! Can you imbecile not even last a couple of _hours_ before disobeying me _again?_!"

Not waiting for an answer, the outraged King grabbed the slave's black tunic and shoved him towards a nearby Trydien servant.

"Punish him!"

The slave was given just enough time to look up at the crowd of staring faces, before being forcefully pushed down the corridor by one of Alined's servants. Amongst the faces, were alarmed expressions of Camelot subjects, and familiar scornful looks of those from Trydien. A flash of blonde hair amongst the sea of onlookers caught the slave's eye, which he recognised as belonging to Arthur Pendragon. The blond-haired King's face was a mix of emotions, and his mouth gawped like a fish, as if he didn't know whether to interrupt or hold his peace. It seemed Arthur's decision was made for him as the slave was quickly whisked away, vanishing any need for Arthur to intercede.

It was the worst weather Camelot had seen in months. The foreboding storm, which had been crawling its way slowly over the kingdom, finally reached the citadel that night. The torrential rain pounded the ground so hard, it sounded almost as booming as the thunder itself. Blazing flashes of lightening illuminated every rain drop, and gave every wet surface an eerie white shine.

The howling wind slapped every bit of his bare flesh. The coldness ate into his fingertips and toes, gradually consuming his limbs until he was numb all over. The sodden tunic clung to his skin, hugging every protruding rib, bone and bump. Quivering in a ball at the floor of the metal cage, the slave couldn't see anything other than the consuming darkness of the night. Two flickering torches burnt under the archway where Alined's party had entered the courtyard, but the rain was so thick it distorted them into tiny dots of orange.

He was cold. Too cold. It was a coldness deeper than just his skin; a coldness which had intruded the very depths of his soul. At first the cold water had given relief to his bleeding wrists and bruises, but now he was so cold, so wet, that he could feel his mind slipping away into a lethargic unconsciousness.

Just as the slave's eyes began to drift closed, a blurred yellow light from a high castle window caught his attention. He lent up on a bony elbow and narrowed his eyes, focusing on the light, which became a square; a window. After squinting for a while longer, a black shape moved into the light. Suddenly self conscious of being watched, the slave laid his head back down onto the hard metal floor of the cage, and covered his face with an arm.

As the silhouette moved away from the window, the slave's mind turned as black as his raven-hair, sodden clothes, and the cold night.

And he drifted into a fuzzy unconsciousness.

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**Sorry if this chapter wasn't quite as good as the last, I'm going to have a bit more Merlin whump and Merlin/Arthur friendship soon ... I promise!**

**As before, I welcome any reviews with constructive criticism and ideas for future chapters! Thanks so much for reading! :)**


	3. Chapter 3: A Protective Pendragon

**Firstly, I so sorry for the late update of my fanfic, I've had a lot of exams and coursework to do but now it's the summer holidays so I should get more time to write! Thanks for all your reviews, once again I've taken into account everyone's comments; I know there's a lot of unanswered questions regarding Merlin & Arthur's ages, when they'll meet, whether Merlin has magic, why Merlin's a slave and why the slave hasn't been given a name yet, but I promise I won't leave any plot lines untied by the time I finish this story! All will be revealed soon...**

**Please note that in this fanfic, Gwen and Arthur are in love, though not married, Lancelot is dead and Gwen has not been banished. King Alined and an entourage from the kingdom of Trydien are visiting Camelot.**

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**Chapter 3:**

**A Protective Pendragon**

**(Gwen POV)**

Golden sunlight leaked through the thin gap between the long scarlet drapes at Lady Cordelia's window, lighting the guest chamber up enough for Guinevere to see the un-slept in bed. Cordelia was a Lady of King Alined's court, and since her arrival with the royal entourage the day before, Guinevere had been assigned as the Lady's personal maid-servant.

The pupils of the olive-skinned maid's dark brown eyes, constricted into tiny pin-pricks as she pulled open the curtains. It was a pleasant morning, but the courtyard still shimmered from the downpour during last night's storm. Not sparing the outside view any more time away from her long list of daily errands, Guinevere turned towards the bath tub, deciding that after last night, Lady Cordelia would most likely want a bath. Gwen knew exactly where her temporary mistress would be. She had seen Cordelia flirting with King Alined after leaving the feast, and being the sleazy man he was, the King had appeared to be drawling over her.

With there being no point in making the bed or tidying the hardly used chambers, Gwen began to make her way towards the courtyard in order to retrieve some water for Cordelia's bath. The castle was busier than usual, and Guinevere saw twice the normal number of servants, hurrying about to serve the increased number of royals.

Outside, pink streaks cut through the pale blue morning sky and distant birds sung a twinkly morning chorus. Gwen walked out of the servant door into Camelot's courtyard; the number of people amassed outside immediately struck her. At a first glance, Gwen assumed that despite the early hour of morning, the sudden appearance of the sun must have drawn people out of their homes to enjoy the warm outside weather. But as Gwen neared the well on the far side of the courtyard, she realised that most people's gazes were in fact turned towards one direction in particular.

Following their stares, the curious maid edged her way through the crowd of commoners and nobles. At the sight before her, Gwen's jaw dropped.

The cage's four large wheels were enveloped in striking orange rust, and the silver bars were almost black with dust and dirt. Inside, some lame strands of straw clung to the floor, flattened by a dirty puddle of water slowly dripping down onto the damp courtyard floor below. But what shocked Gwen most of all was the emaciated form of a young man curled in a ball at the floor of the cage. The caged man faced towards the crowd, but a skinny arm covered his face, revealing a silver shackle connecting both wrists. His chalky white skin contrasted the tattered black clothing, the dampness causing it to cling to his body.

Guinevere had no idea what to make of the situation before her. She knew the man was from Trydien by his distinctive black uniform worn by all Alined's men, and the cage which she'd glimpsed arriving with the royal entourage yesterday. _Who is this man?_ _What on Earth has he done to end up in this god-forsaken cage?_ What puzzled her most was that the curious onlookers appeared to be solely Camelot citizens; all servants she recognised from the castle and commoners living near the citadel around Gwen's own home. Any people of Trydien, noble and servants alike, simply glided in their black robes straight past the caged man, not so much as sparing him a second glance.

Movement at the top of the steps leading into the castle caught Gwen's attention. A blonde-topped man emerged from the doors, stretching his muscular limbs as he did so, and taking in a deep lungful of the crisp morning air. He wore a loose fitting red tunic, low enough at the neck to see glimpses of his strong chest, a pair of black breeches and a sword hanging from the brown leather belt at his waist. The blue-eyed man had a detached look about him, as if still dreamy from having only just woken up, as he scanned across the sun-lit courtyard. Guinevere couldn't help feeling a tug in her chest as she gazed at the King, with a feeling of pride at the great leader he had become, and a feeling of heart-ache at how his position made him so _unreachable._

"Oi!" The shout caused Gwen's head to whip back in the direction of the mysterious caged man.

"_OI_!" This time she saw the source of the shouts; a stocky man who weaved his way through the crowd towards the cage. His unmistakable black uniform made it obvious he was a servant of Trydien, though the dark apparel appeared far better fitted and much less tattered than the shackled man's. The crowd watched eagerly as the agitated-looking servant pulled a rusty key from his breech pocket with his right hand, and violently rattled the cage bars with his left.

"_RISE AND SHINE_ YOU WORTHLESS LAZY GIT."

The slave did not stir. The servant proceeded to unlock the cage door, and as it flung open with a high pitched screech, a beefy arm shot in to grab the motionless prisoner. Finally some groaning escaped the man as he was hauled out of the cage onto the floor at the feet of the servant.

"I said, _WAKE UP! _WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, SOME KIND OF LOW-LIFE _SLAVE_?" The servant jeered. The slave's eyes fluttered open and he frowned with confusion at the scene around him.

"Do you have any idea who that is?" Gwen whirled round to see King Arthur standing beside her also trying to make sense of the spectacle.

"I have no idea," she admitted, "He doesn't look well though."

"You don't say."

"No, I mean there's something seriously wrong."

"What do you mean?"

Completely forgetting about her errand of fetching water, the maid watched the slave for a while longer. The angry servant was still shouting abuse at the slave on the floor, and had fistfuls of his tunic to shake him by. Gwen saw Arthur tense at this, expecting him to intervene at any moment, so she quickly explained.

"He looks confused and disorientated; almost drowsy."

"Are you saying he's _drunk_?" Arthur exclaimed.

Gwen shot him a disapproving look. "No Arthur, he's been out in this cage all night, all through that storm. If I didn't know better, I'd say he has hypothermia."

"Hypo-what?"

"Hypothermia. I've worked beside Gaius for long enough to recognise it. Apparently it happens when someone is exposed to the cold for a long time."

Arthur allowed himself a quick smile at Gwen's wisdom. She had intelligence beyond her years and kindness unlike any other servant. The King's smile then quickly dropped and he strode forward into the clearing with the slave and servant of Trydien.

"You there!" Arthur pointed towards the startled servant, who gave a quick bow. He tried to keep his tone reserved as to not offend a man of King Alined's, though underneath rage started to build up at the treatment of the slave. "What is your business with this man?" The King demanded, indicating towards the slave. Upon closer inspection, Arthur could see the skinny man shivering violently and his wide blue eyes looked downwards, dazed and unfocused.

"The slave won't co-operate m'Lord," the servant answered, "If y'ask me, the bastard needs stronger discipline!"

"As it happens, I was not asking for your opinion. The man is _clearly_ unwell, most likely generated from being left out in the freezing cold rain all night."

"I've received direct orders from King Alined to bring the slave straight to him."

"Tell your King that the... er-" Arthur wracked his brains for another name to use than _slave_ but none other came to him, "-that the _slave_ will be taken into the care of my personal physician."

An eruption of gasps and a chorus of murmurs fell upon the puzzled bystanders. The speechless servant's gob gawped open and closed like that of a fish, obviously wanting to protest but not having the words to do so. The slave continued not to respond; he stayed sprawled on the floor with his head lulling downwards and body quivering.

"_GUARDS!" _Two armour clad guards marched attentively towards their King. "Escort this man to Gaius the Court Physician immediately," Arthur ordered. He then turned back around to Gwen who was smiling at him proudly.

"Guinevere, do you wish to accompany them to Gaius's chambers?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, it's probably best I explain everything to Gaius." Gwen paused for a moment and glanced over at the slave who was being hauled up by the Camelot guards, "I just have no idea what to think about this whole situation."

"Likewise. I can't understand how Alined could allow slavery. But then again, maybe he deserves it."

"You really believe that?"

"Well, he must have done _something_ to deserve this kind of punishment!"

"Perhaps." Gwen glanced thoughtfully once again at the slave limping away with two guards, "I should go."

"Ensure to inform me of his condition!" Arthur blurted with more urgency than he intended.

"I shall. Oh! I almost forgot, I should be attending Lady Cordelia!"

"Don't worry, I'll send another maid servant to do your duties this morning."

"Thank you, Arthur." Gwen smiled, then hurried towards the sick slave, impatient to cease the opportunity of finding out answers to all her questions.

Arthur stood amongst the crowd watching Gwen, the slave and the guards walk into the castle. A pang of guilt struck him as he realised he had stood by and done nothing whilst the raven-haired man was punished. _There was nothing I could do_, he tried to reassure himself, but even as Arthur thought it, he knew there was a part of him which felt protective over the slave. The King was torn; he felt curious to discover more about the past suppressed behind those wise blue eyes, but hesitated over what kind of crime the slave could have committed to end him up in such a life. _There's only one way to settle my doubt_, Arthur decided, _I'll visit Gaius and the slave this afternoon._

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**Phew, FINALLY another chapter uploaded! Sorry if this chapter was a bit naff, I've decided to make y'all wait just a LITTLE bit longer for Arthur and the slave to meet!**

**As usual, I welcome all reviews with comments, constructive criticism and ideas for my next chapter! Thank you for reading! xxx**


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